Regret
by GalaxianDragon
Summary: A chance meeting with one that offers you something warm can end with pain. The choices one makes has unforeseen consequences, some that can't ever be corrected.


Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Souls.

"Speech"

'Thought'

* * *

Cold.

That is how this world felt to the chosen undead. Bitterness and being forsaken were not novel concepts to him; snow only succeeded in further complimenting the pain. This world, painted beautifully, was now another bane of his existence.

"What drove me to come here?" Although he asked that with sincere frustration, the answer was obvious.

There was none other than curiosity. Much like his quest, he came here devoid of understanding.

All he knew was to continue moving forward across the cold stone bridge. Hope beckoned him in the form of a white fog impeding him from whatever lied beyond.

However, that hope was paired with some despair. The being beyond the fog was probably one with immense power to command this world. After dealing with several horrifying amalgamations and tricksters, the undead had prepared his mind and sanity.

Perhaps the decision to press forward was an erroneous one. A group of hollows had stormed earlier the undead and left him with a painful wound. All of the orange elixir that gave him strength was gone.

If this next creature didn't kill him, the wound might.

"Regardless of my death, I will return to the bonfire." There was solace and grief in that truth. Pain would fade, but he would have to endure it all once more.

Irrelevant of which fate would bestow itself upon the undead or which response he would bear, the white fog passed by his body ever so dramatically.

There, as white as the sprite of humanity is black, a woman stood. However, her appearance alluded to a different being than human. Her head towered over the chosen undead, scales covered over her eyebrows, the white that adorned her was actually fur, and a tail was nonchalantly swaying behind her.

Clearly, this was no ordinary creature.

'But, have I actually been so lucky to encounter any?' Thought the undead as he thought back to the crows that plagued him earlier.

"Who art thou?" Questioned the woman.

Surprise was offered towards the question. It was rare that other sentient beings spoke first to the undead.

"I am Adrian Goln." The giant woman nodded her head, displaying her comprehension of that knowledge.

"One of us, thou art not." Adrian felt a little underwhelmed that she couldn't determine that immediately. "This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong here."

'Peaceful?! Has she not bore any witness to the monstrosities beyond the fog?'

It was then that Adrian noticed something distinct about the woman, something that he failed to see before; a black scythe in her hands.

Contrasting perfectly with her white fur, this weapon looked poised to steal a life at any moment. Laying his vision upon the scythe placed doubt in the undead heart.

'Perhaps she patiently awaits travelers to take their lives.'

Dread and fear possessed the cursed being and he began to reach for his silver knight sword. However, he never got the chance.

The speech of the crossbreed started to fade away, the wound was taking effect. Bitter cold snow welcomed Adrian as he met with the floor.

'So this is it. Weakened by impatience and a victim of a monster unlike any other.'

All of his effort was now wasted and would require more if he wanted to ever find peace and meaning. Painful thoughts about what he would need to do overwhelmed Adrian. One action would grant him strength to survive.

Reluctantly, the chosen undead pulled forth a humanity and crushed the black sprite. Power welled up inside of him; the wound had completely faded.

In a desperate attempt to survive, he jumped up and backwards. A quick draw of his sword indicated that he was ready. Yet, no attacks assaulted him.

Instead, the crossbreed woman stood watching him silently. Those green eyes of hers showed very little concern.

"Does thou wish to fight without cheat?" Inquired Adrian, reluctant to lose posture.

"Thou has misheard me." She turned to the right and pointed to a ledge behind her with her scythe; it ran off into nothingness. "If thou wish to leave this place, plunge down from the plank and hurry home."

Her green eyes turned to the man she dwarfed. Unconcern was replaced by ferocity.

"If thou seeketh I, thine desires shall be requited not."

This novelty upheld the surprise of Adrian. His posture began to weaken. For the first time, a being who garnered great strength over the undead asked for no blood to be shed.

"Thou soul is not of interest to me." He turned his head slightly. "Why would I covet that?"

To answer, she began by rubbing the scythe in her hands. Subtle dread settled into her emerald eyes.

"I, Priscilla, possess something unlike any other. The power of Lifehunt is something feared by the gods and the men under them. Such a curse is my birthright," explained the white woman.

"Curse? Art thou afflicted with the darksign as well?" Questioned Adrian. Priscilla slowly shook her head.

Curiosity subtly fluttered across her face like tiny embers from the desired flame. It was possible that the crossbreed had never heard of the darksign.

That would be a relished blessing to those in the dying age.

"I am branded as a wretch by the gods and man alike. A thing to be shunned and ugly." Ironically, the two shared something alike.

Undead, while being common, where hated by survivors and each other. Adrian could even sense that the gods were placing influence in his life.

"The outside world is full of a pitiful flame and I want no audience with it." Her head lowered down to her guest. "I beg of thee, plunge down from the plank and hurry home."

Temptation for the power of Lifehunt, something that could usurp the gods, failed to hold a candle to the chosen undead. An offering of peace was so rare and in such a modest manner.

Not even the Princess of Sunlight offered him such reward for peace after besting her knights.

Adrian began his walk to the edge of the broken bridge. Perhaps Priscilla was lying? Deception and a thirst for souls could hide under that white fur.

Yet, the crossbreed stood in the same place, only changed by her following gaze. Her eyes begged him to flee from this cold, dark world.

"Thou has earned by gratitude. A being such as thineself is scarce." The warm gift was not received as Priscilla reserved her expression. "Thou shouldn't accept what was said in the past."

Embers sparked in her eyes upon hearing that. Adrian turned away to face the cliff and prepared himself.

"Hideous thou art not."

The undead fell, his being returning to the outside world. Dark and stillness grasped the painted world once more; Priscilla was alone in her hollow chamber. As she stood there, something small ran down her face. Cold and unfamiliar. Her hand raised to grasp this enigma.

It was regret.

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Thanks for reading my story. I hope you liked it. Priscilla has to be one of my favorite characters in the Souls series. I just had to write something about it. Please leave a review if you have anything to say.


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